New Plays

Sour Grapes. Vincent Lawrence has written another play around his favorite theme. A couple, hopelessly out of love with each other, rebel against the Divine Will that bids amorous romance vanish soon after marriage. They decide to live in the illusion that they are really in love. It may be only "throwing bean bags at the Gods" but it will be a righteous gesture against divine tyranny. In their common enthusiasm for the game, they find that the spark of their former love is rekindled. The sour grapes are within reach--and sweet. The trouble with the play is that so much of this is expressed in dialog, so little in incident. Still, the dialog is crisp, frequently eloquent; the play intelligent. Alice Brady gives a splendid interpretation of the cynical, disillusioned wife. To John Halliday is due even greater credit for his performance as the perfectly uninterested husband, devoted to his emotional ideal of love.

Service For Two. Your Englishman on the U. S. comedy stage is a slow-witted, honorable nobleman. Place such an one in Room 1913 of the Hotel Alabaster, his newly wed wife in Room 1914, his careless, former sweetheart in Room 1912, and the best of the worst will ensue. Every time hubby is on the point of explaining all, some one knocks at the door. Hugh Wakefield cleverly stutters, gasps, grimaces, after the established manner of approved farce-comedy spouses. Pretty Marion Coakley contributes a vivid piece of work as the unextinguished Hollywood flame in Room 1912. All this is something of a disappointment to theatregoers who remember a previous play of Martin Flavin's, Children Of The Moon. Yet it is as good as the average farce, and cleverly executed from the box-office point of view.

Queen High. Seldom has Manhattan been regaled with such diverting musical entertainment. Queen High deserves all the superlatives applicable to musical comedy.

The audience left the theatre whistling and humming snatches from at least three definite song hits contributed by Lewis Gensler: "Don't Forget," "Cross Your Heart," "Everything Will Happen For The Best." The plot is frankly based upon that old farce, A Pair of Sixes, in which a poker hand assigns one man to the position of servant, the other to the position of master, for a whole year. The antics of elephantine Frank Mclntyre and dapper Charles Ruggles as the incompatible parties to the poker contract are enough to carry any show to success, even without the added help of droll comedienne Luella Gear, acrobatic Edwin Michaels, super-dynamic Gaile Beverly, beauteous Mary Lawlor, and a host of others. Willy Pogany made the settings.

Number 7. Another English thriller has visited tired Broadway. Number 7 is the address of a forsaken tenement building which, in the course of a chilling melodrama, houses Scotland Yard detectives, criminals, innocents, relief comedians, all bent upon recapturing the Duchess's stolen jewels. Weird entrances and exits are effected through skylights, windows, doors. Eden Gray, as heroine, lends a touch of beauty. The play, though strictly according to formula, is fairly exciting.

What's the Use? An indecently boring comedy of Jewish domestic life on Washington Heights was written by Pauline Fain, produced by Aaron Fain. As all the Fains and their friends have seen the play, it has probably gone to its rest by now.

No Trespassing. Here is a Broadway account of the adventures of a Christian missionary among wild Long Islanders. The natives of the smart set of the isle drink too many cocktails, bounce the Charleston, whang the ukelele, fall into drunken stupors in the wrong bedrooms, yet observe strictly the sanctity of marital ties. Hence the title. Into this abandonment, wanders the Reverend Mr. Druce, on temporary absence from his missionary duties in Matamarangabok. Zoe Gait, the set's infallibly ravishing flapper, bets she can make the handsome clergyman "fall for her." Needless to say, the young lady is completely conquered by his stern, honorable virility. She forsakes the shallow life of Long Island to sail for Matamarangabok, where life is earnest, real. She says, at one point: "I must go now, but I leave my reputation behind."

Edwin Nicander, as a tipsy social leader, affords considerable amusement. Kay Johnson is pretty enough to lend a temporary validity to her reputation as a temptress. The play succeeds in mildly tickling the more ordinary risibilities and will probably prove popular.

Castles in the Air. Out of Chicago, into Manhattan, floated lavish, colorful Castles in the Air. An extremely sentimental musical comedy it is, dismally lacking in humor. A little U. S. heiress falls in love with the prince of still another one of those mythical kingdoms. The cruel conflict between love and duty dissolves into pure happiness when the Queen relents and permits the Prince to wed out of royalty. So much is the unhappy worst of it. Far better are the song favorite, "Lantern of Love," the charming doll-baby dance, the outrageously handsome J. Harold Murray as Prince Charming of Latavia, the color effects, the nimble, engaging ladies of the ensemble. Also, there is Bernard Granville, popular, supple, dancing comedian to help explain an entire season's run in the metropolis of the West. 2 Girls Wanted. A pleasant comedy sauntered into the Little Theatre last week, offended no one, charmed a great many. It concerns a sensible, whimsical little country girl. She braves Manhattan, toils as stenographer, as parlor maid. A big business deal transacted with some violence affords her an opportunity to win a handsome husband, frustrate a wicked plot. The lines are witty enough to create more than usual merriment, yet mercifully lacking in slangy wisecracks. An excellent cast headed by Nydia Westman, and skillful staging by Winchell Smith add greatly to the evening's enjoyment.